


A Pony In Pink

by orphan_account



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simply an AU of Sherlock as ponies. Nothing more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pony In Pink

John Watson rolled out of bed with a shout. Instead of the cold barracks he had grown used to, there was the ceiling of the small flat he had barely been able to afford. Everything in his body ached, his shoulder started to hurt. A small boom turned his head to the window. Rain. London was always rainy. Bad for his joints. Shakily, he got himself up on his hooves and clambered back into bed. He tried the breathing exercises Ella and his physical therapist taught him but they never seemed to do anything.  
He looked over to the brace the doctor told him he’d have to wear. When John asked for how long, the doctor looked at him with pity until answering with a simple, “I don’t know.” John tore his eyes away and stared at his desk where his laptop and gun lived in the drawer. He looked longingly for a minute thinking. He huffed shortly and rolled to his side, away from his desk. It wasn’t until nearly dawn when John could feel his eyes grow heavy. John Watson could never be the pony one would’ve known again.  
——-  
After the weekly session he received from Ella, the youngish therapist of his, told him to update his blog more. She said it could be about anything; his sister, friends, what he ate, anything at all. She also stressed the importance of a routine. Routine was good. Routine was structure. Routine was normal. John left her office, wondering if he should just stop going all together. She was repeating herself. Her words reminded John of the eyes that fucking doctor.  
——-  
Ella and the doctor’s words rang around in John’s head. The stallion couldn’t stop pacing, always glancing at the desk drawer and gradually getting closer and closer. Where he knew where the gun and the laptop were. Eventually, John found himself constantly opening and closing the drawer. Now, he was in front if the desk, the drawer fully open. He made no move to close it or take any thing out. Staring at it, he felt or thought of nothing and yet everything at once. Snorting he bucked the drawer shut and tightened the brace before leaving the flat.  
——-  
John walked around. That’s all he felt he ever did these days. Just talk, eat and consume. Walking was something he struggled at now. The pain in his shoulder traveled down to his knee and, some rare occasions, his hoof. The brace felt heavy, bulky and unnatural on his leg. While John was by no means vain, the scar from the bullet was puckered and noticeable. What little hair that grew on it failed to cover what marked him as a broken stallion with only a brace and a useless blog. He vaguely remembered his physical therapist telling him to walk and strengthen it everyday. Even on the days where the pain was unbearable. He hated aimless walking but it felt right now. He walked and walked. It wasn’t until someone familiar was calling his name that he realized he was in a park.  
“John? John Watson!” John turned around to see a round, bespectacled Earth pony coming toward him. The pony took his failure to respond quickly as being unrecognized. That did not falter his confidence one bit.  
“It’s Mike. Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together.”  
“Yes, Mike hello,” John replied curtly. He was happy to see Mike, a great mate from his early uni days, but it didn’t feel quite right still. He shook hooves with his good hoof, leaning back a bit on his hind legs.  
“Heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?” Mike asked, oblivious of the brace. John had a smart remark that he bit back and kept to himself.  
“…’Got shot,” he answered simply. Mike finally eyed the brace and scar. He quickly looked up and gave him a half smile, free of pity. It was refreshing to John but still felt wary of that small cringe on his face. Mike motioned for the local Starswirl across the street.  
“Coffee?” John went to check his pony pocket for his wallet, but Mike stopped him.  
“Consider it your welcome home gift,” He said with an accepting smile John couldn’t hate all together.  
——-  
John and Mike’s conversation had been a pleasant one. Mike talked about his students, fiancée and what was going on with their uni mates. John didn’t add much to the conversation, just sipped his coffee, asked a few questions and let out a dry laugh when it was appropriate. It was nice to talk to an old friend but John still felt disconnected and numb.  
“Staying in London?” Mike asked suddenly. John was taken aback but swallowed and answered.  
“I can’t afford London on an army pension.”  
“Can’t Harry help out?” John snorted.  
“Like that’ll happen.” John sighed.  
“What about a flat mate? I’m sure that would help.” Mike asked with a spark in his eye.  
“Oh, come on. Why’d any pony want a flat mate like me?” Mike’s smile turned into a grin and chuckled.  
“What?”  
“You’re the second pony to say that to me today. Not in so many words but he’s having trouble finding one.”  
“What’s he like?” Mike’s grin looked akin to a Draconiquis’.  
“You’ll see. He should be in the lab at Bart’s now. Chatted with him as I left. I can take you to him now, if you want to meet him.” Mike got up and tossed his empty cup the bin. John thought for a moment before following Mike to the hospital.  
“May as well meet the stallion.” He thought to himself as he trotted along with Mike.  
——-  
Upon entering the lab he once studied in, the first thing he noticed was the equipment. It was all new and modern. There were new shelves and it felt as if it had expanded since he was last there.  
“A bit different from my day,” he said with good humor. Mike chuckled.  
“Mike, may borrow your ED? There’s no charge on mine.” John turned to where the baritone voice came from. Behind a electronic microscope, a long white unicorn horn, nestled between dark black curls, was using magic all around him and the room. Tubes with chemicals shook, a bowl with stirrer mixed. John had almost bumped into one of them on the way in.  
“What’s wrong with the landline or your phone?”  
“Nothing. I prefer to text.” Mike checked his pocket for his small mechanical dragon figure.  
“Sorry, don’t have mine.”  
“Here,” John fished out the dragon from his pocket. The tall unicorn turned to him, no longer ignoring John’s presence. “Use mine.”  
“Oh. Thank you.” He willed away the experiments and came closer to John. He summoned a pen and paper, using magic to quickly write the note. After finishing, he magicked the ED out of John’s hoof.  
“That’s an old friend of mine-John Watson.” Mike introduced.  
“Afghanistan or Iraq?” he asked bluntly. John could see out of the corner of his eye Mike smirking  
“Sorry?”  
“Which was it: Afghanistan or Iraq?” John looked strangely at the tall, skinny unicorn.  
“Af…ghanistan…sorry you were-“  
“Ah, Molly. Coffee. Thank you.” John turned to see a mousy maned pegasus pony with molting feathers enter the lab, holding a tray with a singular mug of coffee in her mouth. The unicorn studied her for a moment as he used magic to float the mug and tray toward him. “What happened to the eye shadow?”  
“It…didn’t work out…” she explained, looking discouraged.  
“Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Now they’re too small now.” John could feel the mare’s embarrassment as she left out a small “Okay,” and shuffled out of the room.  
“How you feel about the violin?” The unicorn asked, floating the ED back to John. John blinked as he pocketed his ED.  
“What?”  
“I play the violin when I’m bored. Sometimes, I won’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you?” He gave John’s confusion a small smirk. “Potential flatmates should learn the worst of each other.” John blinked again and slowly directed his attention to Mike.  
“You told him about me?”  
“Not a word.”  
“Then who said anything about flatmates?”  
“I did.” The unicorn explained, putting on scarf. “I told Mike this morning that I’m a difficult stallion to find a flat mate for. And here he is with an old friend, recently back from military service from Afghanistan. No difficult leap.” John shifted his hooves, uncomfortably.  
“How did you-“  
“Found a nice place in central London. Together we ought to afford it. Let’s meet there tomorrow at 7:30 evening. Sorry, I’ve got to dash: left my riding crop in the mortuary.” The unicorn brushed by John.  
“That’s it?” John managed to ask him before he was out the door.  
“That’s what?” The unicorn huffed, turning around to him impatiently.  
“We just met and we’re going to look at a flat together.”  
“Problem?” John glanced to Mike. Mike just watched on, amused.  
“We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where in Equestria we’re meeting. I don’t even know your name.” The unicorn’s eyes narrowed and glimmered.  
“I know you’re an army doctor invalided home from Afganistan. You’ve got a brother whose worried about you but won’t go to him for help. Probably for either his alcoholism or the fact he’s left his wife. Your therapist diagnosed you with psychosomatic pain in your left foreleg.” John was stunned, jaw unhinged. The unicorn smirked. “That’s enough to to go own with, don’t you think?” He rushed to the door but just before he completely left he craned his neck to John.  
“My name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Sreet. Afternoon!” With just that, Sherlock Holmes left. Just a blur. The already big laboratory felt even bigger the instant he left. John didn’t know how to react. He just stood there, silently. Slowly, he turned to Mike.  
“Yeah. He does that.”  
——-  
That night, John returned home. Mike offered him dinner but John felt that would over stay Mike’s generosity. After finishing a small microwave meal he sat down on his bed and thought. Remembering the mysterious text that was sent, he pulled out his ED and selected “Previous Texts.”  
“If the saddle is green, arrest the brother. -SH  
John read the text over and over again. Who was Sherlock Holmes? Thinking about Sherlock made him remember what he told John before disappearing in a flash.  
“221b Baker Street, huh?” John thought, getting up. “Easy enough to remember.” He slowly walked to the desk, opening the drawer. Carefully, he pulled out his laptop, opened it up and shut the drawer. The gun was ignored.  
John used Pony Search to find directions to Baker Street. It was a bit too far to walk but John looked at his hurt leg dangling beside him. This really was inconvenient. A cab or the Tube are the only options. After memorizing the directions and about to close the laptop, John started to think about Sherlock Holmes. The stallion that he barely knew but knew about him. Without thinking, he opened the laptop again and Pony Searched “Sherlock Holmes.” A single link was all he got. The Science of Deduction. John clicked on it.  
——-  
After browsing Sherlock Holmes’ website, he was more confused about the unicorn than he was before. It was impossible. No pony could do what his site claimed he could. And yet Sherlock Holmes “deduced” him with near accuracy. John rubbed his eyes with his good hoof. A rush of creativity suddenly came over him. He felt the urge to write about today on his blog. An actual real post too. Maybe just this once, he’ll make an effort.  
——-  
After finishing his post, John felt tired. Shutting off the laptop, he put it away in the drawer. Tomorrow felt like it was going to be a big day. He climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. He closed his eyes and slept a peaceful sleep. The first one for months.


End file.
